Coup de grace
by The unexpected answer
Summary: A story of taming a heart that learns to love in the time of revolution.
1. Prologue

**I confess that not only am I ignorant in the language of Tolkien and fanfiction, but I'm also a coward and therefore it took much cajoling for me to post this story. Also, I should warn you that, due to my being an amateur young writer, I've completely destroyed the canon universe and littered the space with OC's.**

 **I do not own, nor am I making any profit from anything written here.**

* * *

 **Prologue**

 **The First blow**

A silver curtain of silk whispered a caress on each sides of her cheeks and a shadow dimed the light behind her lids. It was this foreign sensation coupled with the velvet timbre of, 'who are you?' That prompted mismatched pools of purple and green to reveal their depths to the young prince. He was towering over her form on the forest floor, a slender waist donned in the finest threads canting forward for further inspection.

Upon seeing her eyes, his own stormy ones widened, infinitesimally belying his stoic patina. "Does your tongue not respond to your brain? Or…is it that you are as deficient as you look?"

The only response Thranduil received was a baffled blink that had him draw his dagger, 'no matter,' he murmured with a false sweetness while balancing the blade so that it was angled towards her. 'If it is incentive you need…I'll be more than willing to oblige,' he finished with a scathing smirk while simultaneously pressing the tip of his blade in the hollow of her slender neck.

'Thranduil!' His mother's reprimanding tone halted his hand, a tiny bead of blood the only evidence of the break of her fragile flesh. 'Please explain,' she began as she drew near, 'why you've turned your weapon upon your kin?'

Thranduil reeled back. Eyes darting from the stranger to his mother, 'you know her?'

'Do I need to, in order for you to feel some semblance of remorse?' Her hand came to rest on his broad shoulder, 'do you not regret turning your weapon on one of our own,' she paused briefly for his benefit so that he may behold what his eyes were blinded to before. Peeking out of unruly raven curls were two pointed tips similar to that of his own Sindarin heritage, 'a defenceless elleth no less,' she finished.

Thranduil felt a slight stirring of shame that was swiftly squashed before it could show on his smooth face. 'I've never seen an elleth of this,' here both mother and son looked down upon said elleth, 'particular colouring,' he stated in lieu of an apology. With one last withering look, his mother turned to address the wild looking elleth who was now on her feet, briskly straightening out her deep green velvet gown. 'I apologise on behalf of my impertinent son,' his mother offered her one of her winning smiles, 'albeit a quality that ails many young elflings, wouldn't you agree?'

There was a pregnant pause that passed without a single reply from the stranger, yet his mother easily dismissed the awkwardness that followed with her pleasant ambiance. 'I am Nemirel, daughter of Edenor, wife of Oropher and queen of Amon Lanc,' she placed her right hand upon her chest and inclined her head slightly in the customary elvish greeting of respect. 'And my sole child, prince Thranduil.' The elleth's mismatched eyes trailed from his mother's to his and lingered there in a manner that deeply disconcerted him. He felt vulnerable pinned under her penetrating gaze that looked past his mask and reached the very core of his fea, accusing him of what they found there.

The dark haired elleth's dainty hand rose to emulate the gesture, albeit with a strange unnaturalness that Thranduil couldn't quite put a name to for he became distracted by what he spied in his peripheral. It vanished before he could truly comprehend it, but he thought he'd seen a glimpse of an angry pink scar in the centre of her inner wrist.

'Luthien, ward of Callon,' she spoke in a soft lilt and removed from her long sleeve a crumpled envelope that she then presented to his mother. 'I neither see nor sense your entourage,' his mother remarked as she accepted the parchment, 'surely my cousin did not send you without an escort?' At this, her eyes finally faltered, 'my horse became redundant a few miles from here,' she put plainly, oblivious to the identical looks of disbelief on their faces.

'You would have us believe that not only did you make your own way here from Lorien, but half way through you continued on foot?' He sneered at her, although not without repercussion for he was well aware of his mother's disapproving glare.

'I found a friend that was kind enough to offer his help,' she said looking at a point past his shoulder.

Thranduil witnessed the same strangeness from before cast a film over her face, yet somehow…it was different. Pert red lips spoke of a smile playing at their corners, creating a ghost of creases on each side of the cherry shape. Rosy cheeks sang softly a surreptitious song of delight that the eyes danced with a flickering light. So lost was he in contemplation of the beauty burned forever in his memory, that his crumbling composure almost ceased to exist at the sight of the great creature that emerged from behind.

A mass of fur and colossal antlers languidly trotted towards the elleth who greeted him by placing her forehead on the space between the creature's eyes, and petting the white pelt on its cheeks. There wasn't a single sound exchanged between them but somehow their embrace spoke of a melange of camaraderie and solace.

'How endearing, I'd never thought I'd see a friendship between an elf and an elk,' his mother took a step towards them, 'may I?' She asked Luthien with a hand outstretched in the creature's direction.

'I do not think it wise to trust the beast of a wild character,' Thranduil warned, his hand itched to take hold of his blade.

'I assure you…the feeling is mutual,' the elleth replied with venom, something that threw him off for he did not expect, nor had he ever been spoken to as such.

His retort was swallowed by his father's deep laughter, 'I feared the two of you were spirited by some beast,' he set his sharp eyes on Luthien and the elk she was clutching by the neck, its body shielding her from his father, 'I'm glad that they're beasts of no consequence.'

Internally, a part of him cringed at his father's lack of decorum, the rest however, was pleased with both his father's presence and words; it cleared his mind of its previous fog. Now that he'd regained complete lucidity, his ire was minutely satisfied at the wench's cowering, though he promised himself that he'd repay her for her audacity.

'Oropher please, she is callon's ward,' his mother tried to salvage the situation, 'she brings word from Lorien.'

Intrigued, his father gestured for her to continue, 'Amroth and the council have accepted your request regarding Erebor, they are stationed not far from here, if it pleases you; they will arrive on the morrow.'

Something sinister pulled at his father's lips as he considered her words, 'and what do they want in return?'

He looked to his mother when she failed to answer, on her brow he found fear and worry, '…for you to accommodate possible suitors for Thranduil in Amon Lanc.'

Both ellon's eyebrows rose, although for Thranduil it was out of annoyance, while his father appeared a mix between shocked and amused, 'is that all? I suppose I should count my blessings,' he met his father's slate eyes. 'Don't look so put out son, you are only 15,000. I won't force you to marry any of them,' his eyes drifted to Luthien, 'especially if they are anything like this slip of a…elleth? You're not of the suitors are you?'

The elk nuzzled its nose on the side of her face in a comforting manner, sensing the distress that lay beneath a mask of indifference, 'I am only the messenger,' she bowed slightly before adding, 'your highness.'

'Indeed. Tell Amroth that I'll have his favourite wine prepared for his arrival,' and with that his father had already dismissed her, 'come,' he took his mother's arm in his and headed towards the city entrance while Thranduil trailed behind.

Before the gates fully closed, Thranduil looked back to see the elleth ride off to where she came on the back of the shimmering elk, he was certain that their paths would cross again; after all...he was not one to forget a promise.

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 **Thank you for reading, I apologise for the ambiguity, but I think it's necessary and the length of the first chapter will hopefully be longer...**


	2. Chapter 1

**While writing this chapter, my sister said to me that fanfiction is a sad place for the writer because they know what's going to happen; and I couldn't agree more. I love the process of writing, but once everything is on the page I come to detest what's there, the words become mundane and the narrative seems too bland, does this happen to anyone else?**

 **Well, I hope you enjoy reading this...**

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 **Chapter one:**

 **Ankle deep in lukewarm water**

The opulence was suffocating. The polished marble floors mocked her with the reflection of the gem embedded ceiling that cast a glittering rainbow upon the intricate walls of the ballroom; and its mass occupants. They were like moths, their ensembles bleeding into flutters of colour due to their want of dance and attention; and then there were some whose frantic movements were dictated by the indulgence of wine and want for the Prince. It had been 3,000 years since their last meeting and in all that time, he'd not changed at all, if anything he'd become worse.

To some he was an intimidating picture sitting upon his throne, idly entertaining a goblet of wine in one hand and a plethora of elleth's trying to win his other into their marriage bed. To her though, he was the epitome of all that she despised.

'You're too transparent with your emotions,' a familiar and somewhat patronising voice invaded her solitary space in an inconspicuous corner, 'Haldir,' she greeted him blandly.

'Those treacherous eyes of yours have killed the prince a thousand times over, isn't that enough to satisfy you? Or must you continue until you thoroughly embarrass our family?' He chided her like she were some petulant child. 'Don't you mean _**your**_ family?' was her caustic reply, 'or perhaps disorientation has addled your brain and thus, forced your tongue to stoop to charity?'

His cerulean eyes flashed with irritation, the corners of pale pink lips twitching slightly with poorly contained ire, 'my parents may be bleeding hearts,' he hissed lowly, 'but if I asked for it, they would have you put out before you came of age.' A satisfied smile threatened to split her face in two, yet it didn't quite reach the malice in her eyes, 'careful dear, you forgot your pronouns. People might question the veracity of your sincerity if you show such discrepancy, one moment it was **our** …and now it is **my.** '

She could tell from the tick in his jaw that he longed to snuff the life out of her, 'learn to control that tongue of yours lest it lead you to something you may regret,' he fumed.

With feigned tenderness, she caressed the side of his jaw with the back of her hand, 'my dear Haldir,' she began, bringing their faces closer together so that their eyes were level, 'you're too transparent with your emotions,' she shot back. His eyes that were as wide as saucers, narrowed with renewed irritation but he couldn't supress the pretty blush that spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, 'have you no shame?' He whispered indignantly.

She let out a hollowed laugh, 'in order to have some semblance of shame, one must be treated accordingly with respect.'

Haldir flinched as if slapped, his face twisting with regret at his poorly chosen words, 'I suppose...you'll object to any advances for a dance?' He asked in lieu of an apology, avoiding meeting her gaze. 'You suppose correctly, but you already knew that didn't you?' She played with the ends of his golden hair, 'you want an excuse to leave, but that makes me wonder…what you came here for in the first place?'

'Do not insult me with your perverse implications, I came for the wine, albeit you've provided a similar burn, unfortunately yours has repulsed both my eyes and gut,' his navy cape chased at his heels as he re-joined the others once more.

Assured no one else would come looking for her, she swiftly made her way to the exit, a content sigh escaped her as she felt the cool metal of the door handle under her palm.

Relief turned to dread as a pale hand dwarfed her own, 'and what do you think you're doing?' He whispered in the shell of her ear, his other hand leaning on the door, effectively trapping her between the door and his front pressed against her back.

She knew who it was without looking at his face, the irony was not lost to her, they'd been in a similar compromising situation years ago, 'leaving, I've no desire to make merry for insignificant matters.'

The grip on her hand tightened painfully, 'celebrating my 18,000 years is an insignificant matter to you?' He spun her around, his grip unrelenting, 'and what if I placed you in the dungeons, would it be I who is insignificant? Or **you**?' He didn't wait for her reply, turning around he dragged her back by her captured arm despite her protests.

She pressed the heels of her feet into the floor to prevent him from taking her further away from the exit, 'let me go!' She tried to tug her hand out of his hold, however, he pulled her with greater force, as a consequence causing her to fall down the stairs.

She landed on her side, black spots danced in her vision, a web of warmth dripping down her face from her forehead, the white noise in her ears drowned out all other sound; and the pain in her side numbed all other sensation.

A memory flashed in her mind's eye, one that reminded her that she'd received and endured greater anguish. With renewed strength, she blinked away the viscous crimson coating her lashes and heaved herself up with her arms into a sitting position.

As the world stopped spinning, so did the audience she realised, 'Luthien!' Her charge and his family called out simultaneously, their echoing footsteps halted by a gesture from the prince; his sued boots now on the same steps she rested her aching head on.

* * *

'I'm curious,' Thranduil began as he descended the last step, 'about your lineage,' he felt nostalgic as he looked down upon her yet again. 'Surely, you can't be Silvan, you do not have their ears or colouring,' he turned slightly to address the audience, 'wouldn't you agree?' They nodded mutely, some of them wearing confused expressions while the rest looked amused.

'Your hair,' he observed the inky curls fanned beneath her, 'suggest you have Noldor ancestry somewhere in your parentage, which would also explain the ears.' His eyes crawled up her body to meet her furious ones, 'of course, you could also be the discarded child of a coupling between and elf and man; your eyes certainly suggest that.' The crowd behind them erupted into snickers and speculative whispers.

The triumph Thranduil felt faded with the light in her eyes, dripping down her cheeks, he felt the weight of her loss as if it were his own. She closed her eyes briefly and it was like a veil had been lifted over his head, the red of her blood was so vivid against the porcelain planes of her face, coupled with her tears, it ate at him that he put them there. The image of her ghost of a smile that often haunted him, juxtaposed with the one before him; made him feel nauseous with guilt.

However, try as he might, his body would not yield to the will of his heart, his arrogance was as thick as tar over his mind; and it refused to bow now and render him a fool in front of his people. He acknowledged to himself that it was his arrogance that kept him petrified to his spot, watching once more as she picked her crumpled form from the floor and turned her back to him; she disappeared behind the heavy doors and never before had he felt such emptiness resonate within him.

* * *

She had trouble navigating the halls with her clouded vision, all the walls bled into one mass of solid colour, the ground spun beneath her and as a result she clutched desperately at the walls so as to not fall.

'Are you alright?' A kindly voice asked as a tall blurry figure came to stand in front of her, the scent of lavender invaded her senses albeit in a soothing manner rather than overwhelming. The person was obviously male from the voice and silhouette she could make out, 'you need to be looked at immediately,' he proclaimed, his hands cupped the sides of her face, his touch akin to that of the softest silk.

'Can you walk?' he asked without removing his hands, 'I'm a healer,' his warm breath wafted over her wounds like a soothing balm, 'I'll take you to the healing chamber.'

Without warning, he hooked one of his arm under the crook of her knees and the other held her firmly to his lithe chest, she was too tired to complain and decided to enjoy the rare kindness of the stranger, she rested her head on the base of his neck; soon she was lulled to sleep by the even flutter of his heartbeat.

* * *

Nemirel wasn't surprised to see him, 'cousin dear, come in,' she opened the door further and stepped aside, 'you too darling nephew,' she added when Haldir hesitated.

'I know why you've come, and I apologise for not being present to stop my son,' she said before he went on a tirade, 'Thranduil…he's going through a difficult time with his father away for so long.'

Callon's face scrunched with disgust, 'you think such pitiful excuses justify his poor behaviour? What have you heard about tonight's events?'

'Only that the girl-'

' **Luthien** ,' both men interrupted, neither looking apologetic for cutting off the queen.

'Luthien,' she obliged, 'made a scene and as a consequence Thranduil made certain remarks about her…origin,' she finished hesitantly, weary of their darkening expressions.

'Made a scene?' Callon repeated, the rage boiling in his veins turning to ice as it reflected in his voice, 'is that how you defend him and yourself, by lying? Because we both know that you know the truth is far worse than your sugar coated version.'

'What would you have me do?' She moved to the balcony, unable to bare the truth mirrored in their eyes, 'arrest my own son, the prince? You underestimate my love as a mother.'

'No, I overestimated your love as a queen,' his remark stung like a spear to the heart, 'I see the folly of my actions, I shouldn't have turned to the cause to fix the error,' with those parting words; they left her with her hurricane of thoughts.

* * *

When she came to, she was greeted by a kaleidoscope of grey, blue and violet eyes flecked with hints of pink here and there, 'I'm glad to see you're awake,' the owner of said eyes stated.

Blinking out the lingering fog from the peripheral of her mind, she reluctantly left the cocoon of warmth provided by the blankets and sat up, 'how are you feeling?' The stranger asked, and it was at that moment that her mind put the two together, he was the healer that helped her earlier, 'better,' she replied.

His appearance matched his gentle voice, he had doe eyes that were like set gems against milky white skin and his hair was like any other she'd seen, snow white tufts of feather like hair was cut short in a waves that reached his hairless chin.

'I'm Elyon,' he held out his hand palm upward, 'Luthien,' she hesitated, 'I don't have any money on my person, but If you-'

'What? No!' He shook his head, the action tousling his waves so that they fell like a halo around his head, 'I don't want payment, this is,' he held out his hand again, except he took hers in it this time, 'a form of greeting.' He placed a kiss on her knuckles, eliciting a tingle of heat to shoot from the tips of her fingers to the back of her neck and down her spine, 'what was that?' She snatched her trembling hand from his grasp.

He tilted his head in a questioning manner, his hair falling into his eyes, the sight doing wicked things to her heart, 'are you in pain?' As his face leaned in closer, she shrank back until her back hit the headboard, 'tell me if you feel any pain or discomfort,' he placed both his hands on the side of her face.

'I'm fine,' she assured him, 'really,' she added when his hands stilled but didn't withdraw, 'how long have I been out for?'

Thankfully, he removed his sinful hands, 'half an hour,' she felt the weight of his stare on the side of her face, 'would you like to talk about it?'

His concern roiled off him in waves, it was deeply touching that he cared for her safety despite being complete strangers, 'thank you, Elyon,' her eyes softened as she smiled at him with more sincerity than she'd ever shown another of her kind.

'Perhaps another time, it is late and I have somewhere I must be,' before she passed the threshold she heard a soft, 'you're welcome…Luthien.'

* * *

Guilt gnawed at the walls of the heart he'd tried so hard to harden, 'she deserved it,' his excuse echoed off the confine of his empty chambers; he couldn't and wouldn't allow this weakness to cloud his mind.

He both envied and loathed his father at that moment, unlike Thranduil's veneer of indifference, his father's heart was truly blackened. After all, who else could be cruel enough to be out waging wars for greed and prejudice and then justify the wrongs as rights for the three kingdoms?

With a tired sigh, he sank down upon the window seat that provided a picturesque view of the kingdom and the strip of land beyond the gates, his keen eyes magnified on the lone figure standing in the meadow.

To his dismay, the slender curves and soft lines belonged to the one plaguing his thoughts, he realised that she was not alone; the creature from their last meeting was also present. 'Overgrown rat,' he seethed, angered that his one solace was being marred by the object of his fixated hate.

Suddenly, a shadow hung over the horizon that spooked the elk, the elleth retreated within the palace walls while the elk returned to the forest.

Curious, he watched the shadow move like mist towards the front gates, as it drew near he realised it for what it was; an army…

'Father.'

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 **Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Thank you to all those that reviewed, followed and added to their favourites, it's really inspiring and for that I'm grateful.**

* * *

 **Chapter two:**

 **Dissecting smiles**

The ground trembled with the thudding of hooves, their heavy beat emulating that of his heart as he stood alongside his mother waiting. Their numbers filled the entire courtyard like one body of a restless sea of silver and blue, in smooth formation they parted down the middle giving way; and that's when he saw him.

He was as Thranduil remembered, all sharp lines that wielded a cutting personality reflected through pitiless eyes of ice. His lips stretched in a lopsided grin at the sight of he and his mother, it was in these rare moments that his father's heart thawed and softened the severity of his eyes, 'my lady,' he started, agilely unmounting his horse.

Oropher ascended the platform they were on and placed a tender kiss on his mother's knuckles, 'how I've missed you so,' he whispered while pressing their foreheads together. 'And I you,' she replied, 'are you well?'

'The only wound I suffered was the absence of your company,' his father let go of her then, only to stand directly in front of him, his strong hands coming to rest on Thranduil's shoulders, 'and the thought of missing my son's coming of age.'

Once, if those words had been spoken to him in the past, Thranduil would have been a well of happiness, today however, those words that he'd wished his father spoke to him more often; stung. Glassy eyes of purple and green haunted his mind, chasing his happy into a coma in the far recess of his mind, washing up guilt in its stead. His hate for her grew then, for engendering in him such frivolous feelings, though he hated himself more at that moment for letting her do so.

'As condolence for my long absence and a measure of my affections, I've bought you both tokens from my travels,' his father gestured behind him to the plethora of exotic looking receptacles. 'Unfortunately, it is not an accurate representation,' he added as they were opened, 'because there was no more treasure left to take,' mountains of all manner of opulence from jewels to gold lit up the entire courtyard like mirrors reflecting a burning white furnace.

'It's beautiful,' his mother whispered in awe, 'don't you think so Thranduil?' She asked, tugging on the hem of his sleeve like a child. He had trouble giving an immediate reply for his heart was in his throat, it wanted to leap out and question his father on the methods he used to acquire such riches; riches they had no need for. However, he was the prince and he couldn't openly impugn his father and risk abandonment of not only his parents love; but the loyalty of the people he'd one day rule. 'Indeed,' he replied, another weight settling over his conscience, his father must have noticed something amiss in his countenance to add, 'they were only dwarves and men,' only for his ears to hear.

'It is only the beginning,' his father then stated for all to hear, the ominous words sending a shudder down his spine, a suffocating fear nestled in heart; it wasn't fear for himself he realised, it was for the owner of the eyes he spied looking at him from the shadows.

* * *

He couldn't sleep with the demons in his head, he sighed in resignation and disentangled himself from the embrace of his warm sheets; his fingers easily found his outer robe in the dark as he slipped out of his chambers. As he passed his parents room, he heard the end of his mother's sentence, 'won't accept this!' Thranduil paused to hear the rest of his parents muffled conversation, '…re outnumbered…besides…have agreed to it…' His father spoke softly in the voice he only reserved for his mother when he wanted to persuade her of something, the disgust festering in his gut became too much to bare; he fled from those very same demons he sought to escape.

Once he'd arrived at his sanctuary, his guard completely collapsed along with his knees, his body sank upon the soft bed of flowers unique to the green woods; they had the texture of wool without subtracting from their striking beauty. He took deep inhales of their calming scent to soothe the pressure behind his eyes, it was here that he felt the tendrils of sleep crawl into the corners of his mind. He was so subdued that he'd failed to sense the other person lingering in the garden, it was only when he felt the pressure of their body weight settle onto his chest, shoulders and arms, did he realise his mistake.

He opened his eyes to see those plaguing his thoughts staring back at him with poorly concealed anger, he knew he shouldn't but he couldn't hold back his laughter, 'forgive me,' he said in between, trying to supress his childish amusement, 'but irony must surely love us to constantly throw us into these predicaments.' Her hands tightened around his wrists in response, the action did little to sober him as her hands were too small to wrap around his entire wrist and therefore did little to harm him, 'humour doesn't become you,' she hissed.

His amusement quickly faded as the waxing moon's silver glow intensified, it bathed them in an ethereal light that revealed to him the indecency of their current positon. She wore a sleeveless white nightgown with thin straps that did little to support her bosom as she leaned over him, revealing to him a good part of her cleavage. The embroidered fabric pooled at her hips due to the way she sat on his chest, he could feel the heat of her bare legs through the fabric of his tunic, 'lady,' he said with a shuddering breath. 'I implore you observe some decency,' he summoned the full force of his will power to keep his eyes drifting from hers and to fight the rising heat in his cheeks and lower regions.

'I've something of dire importance to tell you, you'd do well to listen for it is in your best interests,' she dismissed his plea, 'there is blood on the loot your father bestowed upon you.'

The vestige of guilt he felt towards her earlier dried out at her words, 'how dare you-'

'That blood has a curse upon it that will destroy all that you love,' she interrupted, 'if you don't dispose of it, ruin shall befall this kingdom, is that what you want?'

With ease, he reversed their positions so that she was pinned under him, 'and what exactly does this curse entail?' He decided to humour her. 'The deathly breath of the fiery serpent will rain upon Amon Lanc until it is completely perished,' she continued defiantly, 'I know you don't care for those empty stones, so why do you reject the truth?'

'Why should I believe you, what proof do you have?' He countered, not willing to admit that her words made his blood freeze. Her expression turned solemn, 'I've seen it,' her eyes burned with earnest conviction, 'I know you know how your father came into possession of such wealth, I think you're scared.' His frustration bubbled to the surface, 'what do you know? You don't have a father!' He reviled her yet again with his misplaced anger. 'You're right, I don't,' her reply made him cringe, 'but I do know that there'll be no one left to love or forgive you should you fail.'

He bowed his head in defeat, only for the tip of his nose to brush against the silky smoothness of the valley in between her breasts, he flinched away from her mortified, 'my first mistake is allowing you to parade yourself in such a perverse fashion within the walls of my palace.' He got up and removed his outer robe, 'never appear before me in such a state of undress again, unlike you I do not wished to be married off and therefore I'd like to protect my innocence-'

He stopped short at the sight of her shaking curled up form, 'are you hurt?' Concerned, he kneeled next to her and placed a hand on one of her shoulders, 'what's wrong?' Carefully, he turned her over, although her hands were concealing her facial features, he noticed the tears leaking down her flushed face and his alarm grew, 'tell me,' he begged, placing her head gently within his lap.

'You're…such…an old man!' she gasped, revealing her laughing eyes and a full set of straight teeth mocking him with a wide grin. He wanted to be offended, but this time his heart won over his head, he decided he liked it when she was happy - it made him feel less burdened – so he smiled with her; though he was adamant about his earlier statement. 'Have a modicum of shame,' he stated as he wrapped the red velvet around her dainty frame. 'So, it's fine if I appear before others in **such a state of undress** as long as they aren't you?' She teased. He pushed her off as he straightened, 'how old are you truly,' he huffed, irritated all of a sudden, 'you know what I meant and you **will** follow it.'

'Thranduil,' it was spoken so suddenly that at first he thought it a foreign sound, 'you will do what's right, won't you?' He paused, he was still trying to recover from the shock of having her call him by his name and not his title, 'meet me in the library on the evening of the morrow,' he murmured, 'we'll speak more of it then.' He hesitated, an action that was becoming a routine whenever he was around her, 'goodnight…Luthien,' he retired to where he came from without looking back once, if he had, he would have seen something quite interesting.

* * *

'You called, father?' Thranduil stood stiffly in his parent's room, his skin felt too tight and his palms felt incredibly clammy. 'What do you think of the lesser elves?' Oropher began without preamble, he was idly throwing a rock sized ruby from one hand to the other. 'Lesser elves?' He parroted. 'All that are not Sindar, fall into lesser elves,' his father explained, 'I thought you knew that,' he hooked his arm around Thranduil's shoulders, 'with the way you treated that orphan girl.' He visibly stiffened, 'I-'

His father chuckled and placed a kiss upon his brow, 'my poor son, do you need lessons on how to properly woo your first love?' He spluttered on air, 'I have no desire to fill my head with indecencies,' then he added, 'and she's not my first love!' Both of his father's arms circled his shoulders as he pulled Thranduil towards his chest, the hand not holding the gem petted the top of his head lightly, 'so you've no qualms, if I were to imprison her and her kind?'

Thranduil pulled away, 'what do you…why would you do that?' His father allowed him his space, 'you should be more honest with yourself,' he started, 'imprisonment is an extreme term, think of it more as controlling the population growth. There are far more Silvan elves here in Amon Lanc than Sindar, should we not use the Silvan's resources to strengthen our kingdom?'

'She is not Silvan,' he reasoned, he knew then he'd made a faux pas with the pitying look his father sent him. 'The Silvan are easily persuadable, that is not why I called you here,' Oropher gestured for him to step closer, 'tell me,' he placed the stone in his hand; it had a strange texture. The underside placed on his palm felt like glass, curious he turned it over, he nearly dropped the thing out of shock, staring back at him was a slit iris embedded into an eerie yellow, 'what do you know of dragons?'

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 **Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it.**


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